


Disgruntled Falling

by the_never_was



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, One-Shots, Other, Romance/Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_never_was/pseuds/the_never_was
Summary: Ah, wooing.





	1. Feran

**Author's Note:**

> One-shots involving my Dalish archer inq, Cass, and others.
> 
> (from 2014)  
> Characters/DA:I belong to Bioware.

Cassandra woke up, a bit groggy from allergies, and climbed out of her tent. They'd set up a new forward camp in the Hinterlands near the Dennet's farm, making them have access to the north third of the area outside of Redcliffe. A small river conveniently pooled nearby, and she strode across to it, washing her face briefly to waken.

Varric and Solas sat near the fire and cook pots, talking quietly in the early morning. Cassandra glanced around and noted a suspicious lack of one other elf. A very important elf that annoyed the hell out of her. And, if she could admit to herself, made her highly uncomfortable with his exotic attractiveness.

She strode near the dwarf and mage, frowning. “Where's the Herald? Has he abandoned us?”

To be fair, she wouldn't quite blame him for doing so—everything that had happened to them all had been thrust most upon his shoulders without his desire, including a religion (hers) that had nothing to do with his. But he seemed distressed enough about the Mark on his hand and the Breach, so....

“Hunting. Where else would he be?” Solas asked, intelligent blue eyes swinging upward to look her in the face.

It unnerved her, his boldness. A different boldness than the Herald's. “Why? We have scouts that can and have prepared for all of us,” she countered, frustrated.

“Uh, Seeker, he's Dalish. That's kinda what they do, isn't it?” Varric added, smirking at her as he sat upon a stump around the fire.

Solas gave the smart-mouthed dwarf a nod. “Precisely. There are many roles within Dalish clans, but his was that of the hunter and the forward scout for his people, particularly when they returned to the forests. He has always been one of the providers for meat and furs. It is no surprise he would continue such ingrained duties at this point despite anything given to him.”

Cassandra tried not to let her lack of knowledge about the Herald's person bother her so much. The elf was an enigma, more so than Solas to her, which said something considering how much the mage could unnerve her. “When can he be expected back? We have much to do this morning.”

“In time, Cassandra. A rushed hunt lacks success.”

“Seeker, you're making me dizzy. Have a seat.”

“Ugh,” she groaned and finally plopped down awkwardly upon a rock. “Why must the Herald be an elf?”

Solas tilted his head. “Who knows? Regardless of which divinity or fate itself, he has been ordained as such.”

“You do know he has a name, right?” Varric asked her, a bit annoyed. “It's one thing I think that must have always annoyed Hawke or Cousland, being the Hero of Ferelden. They become their titles and nothing else.”

“Fair point,” Solas conceded. “I quite...approve of his name, actually.”

“It mean something?” Varric questioned, interested. “I mean, I'm sure they all do.”

Solas nodded as he covered a light yawn in the early morning light. “Certainly. An advancer, an explorer. The scout, the hunter.”

“If I write about him, I'll need your input.”

Cassandra frowned a little. “I know his clan name, but not his first. So what is it then?”

Varric's brows went up, same with Solas. “You do not know? Truly?” Solas asked, making her feel like a worse person.

It hadn't been that she'd avoided trying to know him at all. She'd asked about his clan; he'd said they'd traveled rather northward around the Free Marches. But Cassandra was a bit taken aback by how little else she knew. How afraid she had been to know more than was professional. “No,” she admitted quietly.

“It's Feran,” Varric explained to her, somehow without any rudeness.

Feran. Almost made him sound feral, like the wild images of the Dalish humans so easily could conjure. But there was something to it that rolled off her tongue that she liked as well. About that time Solas looked up and over her shoulder toward the path that trailed down the rocky hill above them. Cassandra turned her head a little, trying not to seem so interested, and almost dropped her jaw.

The Herald was coming down the last of the hill, pivoting toward them in the soft dew. He was shirtless, his legs covered in his leather pants, and his bow hung around his back and over his chest. In his hands were a few rabbits. A large knife hung over his belt. Cassandra raised her brows, a bit awed by how even his tan skin glowed in the early sun, highlighting his black hair and the shaved parts of his head. The soft blue markings of his face seemed darker as the clouds rolled over, but his strange almost clear green eyes settled on her. She could tell, even at his short distance, because his gait slowed slightly as he must have thought something. Cassandra tried her hardest not to glance over his toned torso or muscled lithe arms. She'd never had such issues before, even really with her mage lover in the past. But something about this elf just...captured her eyes.

He strode over with a sigh and sat the rabbits down, slinging his bow and quiver off of him. Solas took one of the rabbits and pulled out his own small knife. Cassandra caught him make a few ticks into the fur, smartly outlining where he'd strip it to keep the most of it intact and get the meat. Varric, too, was watching, as if taking mental notes on it.

One of the scouts rushed over, confused. “Ser, we have some biscuits and porridge being prepared.”

“And now we have meat.” The Herald—Feran, Cassandra reminded herself—raised one handsome brow at the female scout as she blushed. “The furs will need cleaned and prepared properly.”

“Are they not too small for use?” the scout asked.

Varric snorted under his breath while Feran smirked. “No. Rabbit furs are excellent for gloves or boot insulation. Our people will need such things in the mountains. I've set up a few snares in the hills nearby for you. Do try not to hunt the little ones into extinction, though.”

Cassandra looked to him, impressed by such thought for the Inquisition forces. The scout nodded, blushing again, and moved away near others. Feran turned, picked up the now skinned rabbit Solas held to him, and took it toward the nearby water, gently washing it in the stream. Cassandra's dark eyes watched him bend, skin shining with a little sweat as the sun rose higher.

“Seeker, your mouth is open,” Varric teased under his breath.

Cassandra snapped her head to his, indignant, and heard Solas chuckle a little. “Ugh. Was not. I was looking at the hills.”

“Sure you were.”

She reached over and shoved the dwarf, who was admittedly growing on her, off the stump, laughing as he cursed her and righted himself.

Feran walked back over, exchanged the rabbit meat with Solas for a new skinned one, and continued the pattern until all three were skinned and being cooked in a slight stew. It smelled heavenly, to her surprise, and she watched Feran add carrots and wild onion to it that the scouts had dug up. Satisfied, he nodded, told Solas to keep an eye on it, and went to clean up in his tent that he shared with the elf and dwarf.

Cassandra tried to ignore the grumbling in her stomach as she sniffed the stew. She'd realized that he'd made it for the four of them to keep the other rations for the support ranks; it was, perhaps, one of the most subtly beautiful things she'd seen in a while.

He reemerged several minutes later, fully dressed in his roguish armor. He coughed under his breath, checked the stew, and nodded to Solas who grabbed a few tin bowls nearby. They portioned it out, and Cassandra almost moaned at her first spoonful.

“The meat will be gamey from being so fresh. Perhaps we can find a way to spice and dry some as well to take for future lunches,” Feran mused as he ate.

Solas bowed his head. “Sounds reasonable.”

The four ate in mild silence. That was until that damnable dwarf spoke up. He sat his empty bowl down with a sad sigh. “Damn good stuff, Feran.”

“Lots of practice,” the elf replied with a smile.

“I'm sure.” Varric glanced over and saw Cassandra's empty bowl. His eyes warmed. “I see even our Seeker loves the fruits of your passion.”

Cassandra scowled as Solas snickered. She glowered at the mage and dwarf both.

Feran rose, took her empty bowl, and ladled the last bit over the fire into it, handing it back to her with a sly grin. She crossed her arms at first, refusing to take the bait, but the smell of it called to her again. Cassandra growled at him, snatching it quickly from his slowly retracting reach. The men smirked at her again, as if all in on a joke. “I see nothing wrong with her enjoying such fruits. It stops her scowling for a while.”

“Oh hah,” she ground out as she sipped the last of her second helping.

“Great point, Lavellan. Gotta stuff her face more often.”

Feran smirked handsomely at her while she rolled her eyes. “I'm sure there are other ways.”

“You know, I bet there are. But like good food, it's a weakness our Seeker can't show.”

“I hate you both,” she grunted and rose to clean out her bowl. She blinked, thinking about it, and took Feran's from him. “Thank you for the meal,” she stated as professionally as possible.

But those stupid pretty eyes of his looked up deep inside of her, making her fight to avoid squirming in her place. “Oh, you're welcome. Any time.”

 

 

 

  
  
[Feran]


	2. The Great White Elk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An imagining of encountering the mount.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-shots involving my Dalish archer inq, Cass, and others.
> 
> (from 2014)  
> Characters/DA:I belong to Bioware.

 

 

Feran loosed his arrow in fury, watching as it knocked the Inquisition scout's aim off and took the bow from his hands. Everyone gasped in shock; he was surrounded currently by his companions and about four other scouts, all of whom had huge eyes...except one. That pair weren't aimed at him. The only other elf looked as furious as he felt while he glared at the scout. Feran notched a second arrow, eyes tight on the man who picked up his bow again. “Don't move.”

“ _What_ is going on here?” Cassandra asked, absolutely baffled. She stomped over to him, clanking with her shield on her back and put herself between he and the scout. Feran, eyes over her shoulder, didn't let his draw relax on the bow, making Cassandra's brows rise in surprise in his peripheral vision.

Solas took a harsh step toward the scouts. “Your human scout tried to slaughter a gift from the world itself, Seeker.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

The dwarf was the only one who was angled properly to still see the great heart, the white elk as it moved through the forest, grazing quietly. Varric swallowed loudly. “Oh, shit. Seeker, I'd back down on this one.”

“Will someone just explain why our Inquisitor almost killed one of our own scouts?” Cassandra growled, voice starting to rise.

Feran sneered, tired of the human dominated views and ignorance. “Quiet.”

The scouts still looked terrified and suspicious, but the lead scout looked angry. He notched an arrow. “It's just a stupid deer.”

Feran's eyes lit up with fire.

Cassandra whipped around then and grabbed the arrow cocked in the scout's bow. “You release that without my permission, and I will kill you myself. Is that clear?”

Surprised by her venom at him, the scout loosened his grip with wide eyes. “Uh, yes, my Lady Seeker.”

Cassandra took the arrow from him and tapped her thigh, glancing ahead and finally seeing the miracle in the trees. She gaped her jaw at the mighty beast and spun again on the scout, hissing quietly, “You fool. You can see it is far beyond a normal deer.”

“It is a gift from the _adahlen_ , the forest, Seeker. Great harts are rare enough, rarer than the halla the Dalish keep, but this...this is....” Solas trailed off, still in shock at seeing it.

Feran finally lowered his bow's point a tad as his eyes trailed the white heart. “ _Enansal_.”

“What does that mean?” Cassandra asked.

“A gift...a blessing.” Solas's eyes were full of wonder now. “That, Seeker, is the white hart—the Great Elk of legend.”

“Until now a myth I heard of as a child,” Feran whispered in awe. “To actually see him...it is...a sign.”

“We are being blessed. Acknowledged. This is wondrous,” Solas agreed quietly.

“Seeker, if one of the Inquisition kills that animal, I am walking away from this entirely. I've sacrificed enough of myself for people and religions that are not mine. This would be the highest insult I could imagine,” Feran said and looked to her, finding pain and conflict in her expression. “You have my word.”

Cassandra considered him a moment, then gestured for all of the scouts to sheathe or put away their weapons. Feran didn't put his bow over his back until he watched each scout obey her order. Varric exhaled deeply. “Damn, he is a beaut, though.”

Solas turned to Feran excitedly and took his hand. “He has come for you. Go. Gently.”

“You can't be serious.”

“You know the tales, _falon_.”

Feran took a deep breath and nodded, feet slowly taking him forward past the group as they hunkered to watch. The white hart danced between the Emerald Graves' trees, shaking its massive antlers and twitching an ear to be rid of a pest. Inwardly he prayed to the gods of the people that if the beast were a sign that it be proven so now. That it allow him close. For several minutes Feran just weaved his way toward the trees, trying to not be seen yet and startle the hart further.

And then the moment of truth arrived. Feran inhaled with a final prayer and revolved from behind an old tree that brought him face-to-face with the hart. The huge animal froze in place, dark eyes squarely on him. Feran swallowed and didn't move for a few moments, barely able to breathe as each second ticked by and the hart still stayed, still watched. Some instinct told Feran to remove his bow, and he slowly reached to his shoulder and, with those dark eyes completely focused on him, slung it off and laid it upon the ground. He rose back up and didn't look down, didn't give the animal a chance to think he was going to make a move for it.

The hart tilted its massive head and rack, thinking. Feran took his first active step toward it, wincing as it huffed low and shifted like it was going to bolt. “ _Las ma halani_ ,” he softly said. “Do not fear for I do not fear you, Great One.”

Feran's heart thundered in his large ears as the animal debated silently, having understood his plea for it to give him help and guidance. Then, with a decisive twitch of its large nose, the white hart took a few baby steps toward him, moving into full long strides as it drew closer. Feran didn't breathe as the beast stepped before him and bent its large face until they were eye-to-eye.

“ _Atish'all vallem_ ,” he greeted it formally. The hart huffed and bumped its nose to his raised hand, stepping closer as Feran stroked the big muzzle. A huge grin broke out onto his face. “Thank you, _falon_. I will ask for your help and release you one day when I can. I just need to be carried swiftly and safely to my goals, if you care to aid me.”

The darker nose of the white face leaned up and brushed his hair, large mouth nibbling a little in greeting. Feran chuckled lowly and patted the great animal's neck. “ _Ma serannas_. Keep in mind I have friends. Don't be frightened of them, please.”

He watched it swing its head out to look beyond the trees. Feran's eyes followed and noted everyone standing, jaws dropped in awe. He tilted back up to view the big dark eye swiveling down to glance at him. “Let's go. I shall give you a name later when I think of one suitable, friend.” In gentle tones Feran asked the animal to kneel and let him mount, a bit surprised when it obeyed without question. He grabbed his bow, climbed over its large back and settled, one hand gripping near the neck as he clicked his tongue against his teeth to get it to rise back up and move. “Good boy,” he encouraged, grinning like a fool as they walked back to the small crowd.

Solas was staring at him with such warm approval that it was almost inspiring to see it directed at him. Feran grinned back and stopped the animal, patting its neck with love and whispering calming words to it as it viewed the people with caution. Everyone seemed a bit timid around it, perhaps now afraid of it as they could truly glimpse its size this close. The white hart stood as tall as some of the tallest horses the Inquisition had to offer, with a thicker body and long, quick legs perfect for leaping and climbing hills. The large rack of antlers on its head were lethal, the points on it sharp and ready for goring if need be or, with its wide size of antler, also sweeping enemies from their feet.

Feran nodded as Solas gave him a questioning look and came forward with a small smile. He extended his hand and waited patiently. No one breathed until the hart sniffed him and snorted, seeming to approve but still eyeing the elf with some sort of wise caution that Feran noticed and kept to himself. It seemed even a myth of his people wasn't quite sure what to make of Solas either.

The rest of the people ooh'ed at it, wide smiles appearing as it bent down and grazed, seeming unbothered by them. Varric shook his head. “Another chapter on the Inquisitor. Lavellan, you are a tireless stream of inspiration.”

“Glad to help,” Feran snickered and rubbed his brow to the hart's back, kissing the fur softly and smirking as the animal's ears twitched back for a second before its tail flicked a little in response.

Cassandra's lovely eyes were still rather round upon he and the animal, as if her inner romantic self couldn't get past the imagery they presented. It...warmed him a little. Feran gave her a brief, reassuring smile. “He is...magnificent. Truly. I have never seen such an animal.”

“Nor has any elf that we know beyond those who wrote him into legend,” Solas agreed, voice full of pride. “Harts are usually red, though they can be lighter shades of browns, creams and almost white. They are also smaller than this size. They're guardians of the forests, and the white hart is the most important guardian of all, said to bless the one it chooses with the will of the gods...or at least its own magical will, which, even alone, is impressive.”

“How extraordinary,” one of the female scouts replied, fingers delicately held to her lips. “It is so beautiful!”

“He will carry me until I know it is time to release him. Then he will disappear, go back wherever he comes from,” Feran explained and rubbed the spread of fur in front of him with his palms.

Solas nodded. “I am glad you realized this, or maybe I should say I am glad you remembered.”

“Both.”

“What a rack,” a male scout joked, but his stance was still that of an impressed man. “Could kill five men with that thing, then gore more.”

“Precisely. Such knowledge is why it would be best to advise you and others after this of one important fact—the white hart, the Great Elk itself, has chosen our Inquisitor. If you ever move to strike him near this beast, you will die. It will not only carry him, but it will fight for him,” Solas warned and caressed his staff between his hands as he considered the hart, which had raised its head to appraise him.

Cassandra glanced to the scout that had tried to kill it. Feran did as well and saw the man shuffling one of his feet behind his other leg, looking a bit awkward and ashamed. “You,” he called, trying to remember the person's name. “Marcel.”

The man instantly looked to him. “Your Worship?”

“I apologize for frightening you earlier. I hadn't meant to harm you beyond a distraction with my shot, so if you have suffered, I will right that wrong. However, had you tried to finish your attempt to kill this creature, I would have killed you. I am not aware of any human myth equivalents, but...I suppose imagine if I were to have tried to shoot an animal guide blessed by Andraste herself, like her mabari. What would you have done then? The same as I, no doubt.” Feran watched the scout blink in thought, then nod belatedly. “Do not worry. You won't be punished. Take an extra ration as a token of apology for my anger.”

Marcel looked completely taken by surprise by the generosity. “Ser? You're...sure?”

“Of course. The rest of you can relax a while. Apologies to you as well.”

They all nodded. None seemed angry at him or even confused anymore. Feran supposed it was his Andraste metaphor that had hit understanding for them all. Cassandra turned, however, before they could leave. “I expect you to relay back to your Mistress that this animal is to be protected. Any who try to harm it under our command will suffer at the hands of the Inquisitor himself. May the Maker have mercy on them.”

“Understood, Seeker. We will send Leliana your regards,” Marcel replied and bowed his head toward Feran with a small smile of relief.

Varric whistled. “So how big is this thing, really? He doesn't just look gargantuan to me, right?”

“Varric, it _dwarfs_ some of our horses.”

“Seeker...did you just make a _joke_?” Varric asked with a mock gasp before breaking out into deep laughter. “I'm actually impressed by that one.”

Cassandra crossed her arms and raised a brow. “I am full of surprises.”

“Keep 'em coming. I like them.”

Solas looked the beast over. “We shall have to fashion a saddle. Otherwise the treks will get...treacherous.”

Feran laughed with a tight nod. “I can already...tell. He has a ridged back.”

“Ouch,” Varric winced for him. “Yeah. Saddle.”

Cassandra seemed to debate before she asked, “May I speak with you privately for a moment?”

Feran caught the other two men glance to one another with a knowing smirk before they waved and walked off after the relaxing scouts. Somehow he managed to gracefully slide off the side of the white hart without hurting himself. He patted its ribs and its tail wiggled again happily. Feran had a good idea what she wanted to talk about, and it wasn't what his friends thought it was.

“You...really meant what you said earlier, didn't you? Despite wanting to fix everything with the Breach?” Cassandra took a step, her expression struggling to decide what emotion out of the several she must have been feeling to show him.

Feran looked away. “Yes.”

“But...how? Would you be so...so fickle?”

That did it. He snapped back so fast she blinked from it. “Fickle? Me, fickle? How much have I put up with on your Inquisition's behalf, Cassandra? How many insults, threats, attacks, and demands? Have you been subjected and forced by another race and religion to do as a legion of people under them command because they think you chosen by their god and resent you for it? I have stood fast and done what you've asked. Standing against the disgrace of someone actually possibly killing this animal would be far more understandable by anyone wise enough.”

Cassandra lowered her head a moment with a sigh. “I am sorry. I did not mean to insinuate...it's just.... I see your points. Humans do not understand the significance of this creature.”

“No, they don't. All they see is a sport and maybe a dinner if they're not in the mood to take it just for a hunt, like so many of your idiotic nobles do.” Feran spread his arms out. “That is what I can't stand most about your people. They abuse and torture the forest and the land and the gifts given to them rather than taking what has been offered and giving back. They raid and kill anything different from them under the name of their Maker. They tortured their own with justification of some interpretation of their great Andraste's words about magic.”

“Yes. Please understand that not...not all of us would have harmed this animal. You saw how our scouts were in awe of it.”

“One of yours almost _did_ harm it, though.”

“True, but you stopped him as did I.” Cassandra tilted her face. “Thank you for...resolving that situation and fixing the tension. I was worried the scouts were going to carry traitorous messages after your initial threat.”

Feran shrugged. “Can't stop them if they still want to.”

“Oh I expect they will merely spread a tale of how rightfully furious the Inquisitor got with an ignorant scout,” she replied and uncrossed her arms. “So, you will stay, yes?”

“Yes, but the conditions still stand. If one of our own attacks this gift, I will go and seal rifts on my own. I won't stand for something so evil,” Feran explained, tone still harsh and unforgiving. “And no...ties I might have begun forging would deter that.”

Cassandra blinked slowly at his last words. “I...understand.”

“Good.”

“He is so beautiful, Feran. Congratulations, truly.” Cassandra turned to walk away, stiff.

Feran regarded the way the Seeker had tensed and withdrawn despite her kind words. He didn't regret his honesty to her, but...he didn't like making her feel upset at all. With a quick look over her shoulder to be sure the others weren't paying attention, he reached out and took her arm, spinning and pulling her into him. Cassandra let out a cute “oomph” and collided with him, looking into his eyes with hesitant wishfulness.

They'd flirted off and on for so long now that he figured it was time he pushed a little further. Feran snickered with a half-smile and bent, eyes closing as his lips brushed hers. Cassandra tensed at first, then kissed back tentatively. He slid his hands to her waist and gripped there with slight possessiveness while he increased the pressure of his kiss for a moment. She moaned a little under her breath when Feran pulled away and let go of her with a slow, sexual look.

He watched the attractive Seeker blink repeatedly as she tried to process what had just happened to her. Finally she came together and shook her head at him, huffed, and walked away talking to herself. Feran merely grinned, knowing he was breaking down that wall she held onto for dear life _really_ soon.

 

 


	3. Vhenan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, that was close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-shots involving my Dalish archer inq, Cass, and others.
> 
> (from 2014)  
> Characters/DA:I belong to Bioware.

 

The ground shifted just as Feran turned and looked at her, amused by Iron Bull's comment thrown her way as the Qunari had caught her eyeing the Inquisitor's delicious masculine backside. She had barely barked out her denial when she felt the rock give away around them and saw them all move backward, just as she tried to run toward them. But she didn't move quickly enough.

“Cassandra!” Feran shouted above her in terror.

Cassandra screamed as she slid down the side of the desert cliff, grasping at rocks that only broke and turned to dust in her hands as she tried to slow herself in desperation. Time seemed to stop as she actually went over the edge. The fall was going to kill her or at the very least disable her from the waist down with severely broken legs and possibly never let her walk again. This couldn't be happening. So much was on the line—the Inquisition, the Breach, the mistakes of the Chantry...the fate of Thedas.

 _Please Maker!_ Cassandra prayed as she tried one last time to grab anything and swung a hand upward with her eyes clenched. “Feran!” she screamed, afraid the name of the elf she secretly wanted was going to be the last word that left her lips.

Relief shot through her as she felt strong, nimble hands catch her extended fingers and hold tight. The action created a backlash of movement, and Cassandra felt her body jerk and bounce as Feran's grip stilled her descent. Quickly she opened her eyes and reached up with her other hand to grip over their hold, strengthening her tie to him. Above her the elf's beautiful eyes were wide with fear, and beyond him their Qunari ally was holding him by his legs on the solid ground.

“You got her, Boss?” Bull called in worry.

“Yeah,” Feran answered with gritted teeth, deep voice straining.

Cassandra knew her armor's weight could still pull her from his grasp as he struggled to keep a hold of her. She choked a little as she locked eyes with him. “Please don't let me go,” she whispered.

“I won't,” Feran replied and pulled upward as Bull retracted his steps and attempted to get them both back on the surface. “Hold on, Cassandra. Stay with me.”

“I'm trying. Maker, I'm trying,” she said, blinking as the fear rocked her again. Cassandra had hardly ever been afraid in her life like this to the point of utter panic, and while she usually would have hated herself for it and seen it as weakness, now she realized she was because she was still in so much danger of being lost—of losing him, too, because of her.

With a loud grunt, Bull gave a final yank and they shot back fully over the cliffside. Cassandra and Feran rolled briefly as Bull let go and gasped in some air. Her own breath was barely catching as her heart pounded in adrenaline. Feran scooted until he lay over her partially and kissed her brow, arms wrapping around her reassuringly. “Shh,” he hushed her as she hyperventilated a little. “You're safe. I've got you.”

“You...you didn't let go,” she managed to gasp out in relief.

Feran rubbed his nose to hers, glassy green eyes so open with emotion it shocked her. He swallowed above her, breath heavy. “Never, _ma vhenan_ _._ ”

Cassandra wasn't sure what he'd called her, but it sure sounded romantic. She gripped his back and held him tightly, face pressed into his neck for several moments.

“Whew. That was a fuckin' close one, Seeker. I'd make a joke about you needing to lose a little weight, but I think your _lover boy_ might shoot me if I do,” Bull teased as he exhaled and sat up, one arm over his risen knee.

Lover boy? That was...a conversation they'd not had before. Cassandra snorted and shook her head as she blushed. Feran laughed harshly above her, his throat raw from the desert sandy air; Cassandra's breath didn't slow as he kissed her temple, rather than refute the term he'd been called. “If anyone needs to lose weight, it's you, Qunari.”

“Hey, I'm all muscle, not fat.”

“Seeker, you should let me examine you for any stress or fractures with your wrists,” Solas called softly nearby.

Feran let go of her and helped her sit up. Cassandra looked over and saw the broken, jagged edge of the Western Approach cliff only feet away and shivered. Feran caught her look and lifted her into his arms, somehow able to carry her with the armor and weapons, despite his thinner elven frame, to where Solas stood further inland. He sat her under a small desert sapling plant and got her some shade while she thanked him for the thought.

“Feran, get her some water from the skin. Perhaps some biscuits. She needs something to calm the nerves.”

“I'm fine,” Cassandra grumbled, wiping the wet streaks of her past tears from her dusty cheeks.

Solas looked her in the eye. “Seeker, I do not doubt you, but it is all right to express emotions at nearly dying. That was tense for me, and I did not go over the edge.”

Cassandra couldn't stop the shudder that ran through her then and merely nodded. Feran checked her face briefly, handsome brows folded downward in concern, then kissed her before running off to the mounts for the supplies. Cassandra blushed as Solas bent next to her, a smirk dancing in his eyes, and gently took her right wrist in his grasp, magic flowing from his hands over her and tingling her skin as she watched him examine.

“Strained. You must be careful with your grip on your weapons. I'd recommend resting it for a few days, but we do not have such luxury and I know you'd only refuse,” Solas managed to joke and gave her a tiny smile. “It will heal. I'll wrap it; the pressure should help a little as will this.”

“What?” she asked, then sighed in relief as cold magic lightly covered her wrist.

Solas nodded. “Good. Let me know if it gets too cold, even in this heat, and I'll remove it.”

“Thank you, Solas. And you, too, Bull,” Cassandra called louder as Bull nodded and relaxed onto his back for a minute. Solas quickly checked her left wrist and declared it fine, which was a relief to both of them. Cassandra watched Feran as he patted the mounts in reassurance before moving to walk towards her position. His elven words earlier teased her, and she quietly asked, “Solas? What do the words _ma vhenan_ mean?”

Solas abruptly stopped his wrapping of her right wrist and blinked for a second. He took a breath and resumed as if the paused hadn't occurred. “It is...a term of affection. Endearment. And sometimes...confession. Dedication.”

“Meaning what precisely?”

“Not sure that is my place to say, Seeker.”

Cassandra grunted as Feran drew closer. “Solas, please.”

The mage sighed. “It means 'my heart.' For elves old and Dalish...it is often a declaration of...love...before it becomes endearment.”

The information rocked through her, skittering down into her belly where it pooled into warmth and butterflies. It seemed the Inquisitor really _did_ feel something serious— _love_ possibly—for her amongst all the flirting they'd done—and that scared her a bit. Feran finished his approach and eyed her worriedly as Solas finished wrapping her wrist with cloth. “Is she all right?”

“Fine. Strained right wrist, but I'm soothing it as best as possible given the circumstances, Inquisitor. We should avoid certain spots of the desert, it seems, and be more on guard,” the elf replied as he rose and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Indeed,” Feran agreed and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. Bull, perhaps you'd like to help ready us. I think a trip back to camp would be most wise. We can start tomorrow anew.”

Cassandra groaned and glared at her wrist. “No, I'm fine. We will push on.”

“I want your wrist to have one evening. Otherwise you might drop your sword each time you try to lift it. Consider what is safest, Seeker,” Solas countered and crossed his arms.

Feran nodded in agreement as he bent to kneel next to her. “We'll start in the morning.”

“We're a day behind already. We cannot afford more delay.”

“Seeker, we have other scouts here. Don't worry. We'll just hit it harder tomorrow,” Bull offered and winked his one eye purposefully so she could see the intention.

“Ugh. All right.”

Feran snickered and helped her to her feet. “Let's get back. We could all use a...little break after that incident.”

“I vote for a slightly different path back,” Solas called in front of them.

“You and me both,” Bull laughed.

 


	4. Like a Revolving Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She drives him fucking crazy.  
> But gods is it worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-shots involving my Dalish archer inq, Cass, and others.
> 
> (from 2014)  
> Characters/DA:I belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

Feran finished brushing the beautiful white fur of his mount just as Cassandra stormed up to him. He looked over and saw her flushed, hands balled at her sides, yet looking absolutely ravishing all the same with her slight tan she'd earned in the desert recently. “We need to talk,” she ground out, flustered.

“All right,” he replied smoothly, not wanting to show he was bothered or worried. It flustered her more, as he expected it to do. Feran patted the hart and followed the Seeker's stomping steps across Skyhold until they were safely on the small balconies above the garden.

Cassandra paused with her back to him, shoulders hunched for a second. Feran watched her force herself to release them down and straightened as she revolved to face him. His brows rose. “What?”

“You....”

“I....?”

Cassandra grumbled and jerked her head sharply to the side. “The...the flirting. I know I haven't been entirely imagining it, not...not with some of your....”

“Kisses?” he asked, a half-smile readily appearing on his cheek.

“Ugh. Yes, those.”

“What about them?”

Her brown eyes narrowed. “Look...I...as much as I.... They must stop, Inquisitor. There is far more at stake that needs addressed with the Inquisition, and your focus as well as mine must be upon those needs.”

“Cassandra, I think I'm allowed to like you anyway,” Feran drawled as he leaned against the stone balcony wall.

She scrunched her nose in annoyance. “You can't.”

“Why not?” he asked, genuinely bothered now.

“I'm...I'm not interested,” she finally huffed out and spun on her heel, leaving him alone on the walls.

Feran blinked at the quick exit and her harsh words. Anger welled up inside of him as he thought back to each time she melted near him, whether it was with her eyes or her callous way of interestingly deflecting his flirting...or especially the way the few kisses he'd given her had affected her. It seemed the Seeker was bent on refusing him, and that was fine. If she really didn't want his affection, he didn't need to feel it. He hadn't expected to do so anyway, not for some human and definitely not for the one who'd first asked for his head. Feran turned and rested his arms on the stone, scowling as he debated how many days he would have to avoid her before they could be civil again, before this...warmth in him each time he saw her would dissipate into nothingness.

The door to the connecting room by the Great Hall opened behind him with a soft groan. Feran didn't even turn around in his frustration, choosing instead to grind his teeth to prevent him from snapping at whomever it was. While most runners went to others who then came to him with information, there were the occasional messengers who were sent via Leliana to him personally.

“Not now,” he warned when he heard steps come closer.

“Did...did you mean what you called me that day in the desert?” Cassandra softly asked behind him.

Feran's eyes slid upward off the garden and toward the opposite ramparts in mild surprise. That day...that day he thought he was going to lose his mind watching her go over the edge like she did. He hadn't been able to stop himself from calling her his heart in his relief, and the sentiment itself was deeper than he'd realized he'd felt for her—it was his feelings announcing themselves to them both, and it meant he was very much on the track of...love. It scared him. While he was a bit smug at the fact she'd come back, he was also tired of the games. Of the back and forth distancing she always did. His heart couldn't hold onto that anymore in hope. “It doesn't matter now, does it,” he harshly whispered. “You made your points. I heard them and am giving you the distance you want. You can't just...keep going between dismissing and inviting me, Seeker. I am no toy. I'm done.”

Cassandra loudly sucked in a tight breath. Neither spoke after that for several tense, quiet moments, but she finally sighed. “I...apologize. You're right.”

“You say those two phrases an awful lot. Probably means something important.”

“Can you just stop? I get it—yes, I am uneducated or biased or judgmental. It's been a learning process with you as Inquisitor,” she countered as she walked around to his left.

Feran explicitly stared ahead to encourage her to leave. “Fine.”

“I'll...leave you be if you'll answer my question. Please.”

His thoughts scrambled as he realized he wouldn't have said it without meaning it...but at the same time, he'd never been in love. He'd had a fiancee once, a betrothal their parents had schemed for, who was most likely killed during a raid; they'd searched almost two weeks for her remains, as they weren't among the dead...but her blood had been. Her bow had been broken, and signs of a struggle had been traceable only partially through the forest. Eventually they'd given up, unable to find anything beyond that and fearing wolves or bears had just taken a corpse before they could stop it.

So how was it possible he felt love? For a human at that and one he was _so_ incompatible with in all kinds of ways? What did he want? Where could it even go? Feran briefly considered lying to her, saying it had been a heat of the moment thing with her near-death, but he could already see the look of hurt and acceptance crossing her face and it tore him up inside to imagine her believing that falsehood. Even if they would be better off, as she said. He closed his eyes as she shifted her weight, trying to be patient. It crossed him then that she shouldn't have been able to understand him in the desert. “How do you know what I said?”

Her shifting stilled as he expected it would. A moment later she wrung her hands together in his peripheral vision. “I asked Solas what they meant. He didn't give me translation until I pressed.”

“Damn mage,” Feran grumbled and sighed, hands folding over the stone beneath his arms so that his fingers dangled past the edge.

“I shouldn't have...pressed, I suppose, but I wanted to know. I enjoy when you speak elvhen, but sometimes it bothers me when I cannot understand and speak in return. It is so beautiful.”

He hadn't considered that. Feran finally tilted his head and glanced to her sideways. Cassandra looked tired and no longer flustered but worried instead. Her earlier scorn echoed in his thoughts, causing him to shake his head. “And knowing what it meant, you then spoke in return minutes ago, Seeker. My answer is pointless.”

“No it isn't!”

“Then I choose not to give one. As I said you do not get to pick and choose when my affection is convenient,” Feran snapped, rotating his lower jaw a little as a tic. “Perhaps I'm crazy anyway. You're human. What is even possible?”

Cassandra's breath caught again quietly, but it could have been thunder in his ears as loud as it sounded to his breaking heart. She hung her head a little, then raised it up abruptly, her worry gone and determination sliding over her face that he recognized. “You have shown that anything in this world is possible anymore.”

Feran jerked closer, eyes narrowed. “Don't fight for something you _just_ said you weren't interested in!”

“I'm interested and you _know_ _it_! I cannot help that I am afraid, Feran! There is so much at stake, so many lives depending on us, that I do not want either of us distracted in the least!” Cassandra broke a little, hands wringing again though her eyes stayed determined. “I...care for you. I do. A lot. I don't know how or why. I'm not...these feelings aren't something I'm used to having. I have to be strong and clear of mind, but being around you has just...changed that. And deep down I...like that change, even if it terrifies me.”

Feran closed his eyes tightly and furrowed his brows. “You can't have both situations. Pick one.”

“Tell me if you meant it,” she countered, voice stronger now. “Tell me, and I'll chose one.”

Light green eyes wearily opened. He looked away, back over the garden as he spoke, confessing yet again, it seemed. “I...meant it. It scares me that I did...that I feel more than I...thought.”

“So you are as I am, then, worried and unsure, yes? If so why did you still flirt? Why still push?”

Feran shrugged numbly. “I enjoyed teasing you, watching you light up in a way you don't otherwise. Making you...smile. You have a beautiful smile.”

“I...thank you,” Cassandra said and coughed a little as she blinked.

Feran glanced back to her with a nod.

“What are your concerns, Feran? Tell me the truth.”

“I do not know what is in store for anyone in this age, and that of course means I cannot predict how anything between us would...go. Getting involved could make things difficult later or problematic or...great. Who knows.” Feran shrugged again, this time looking at her face. “And when this is all over...you'll go back to your Chantry and Seekers, and I'll leave for my people if they still live. And that will be that. I suppose you were right earlier, then...I just wish you'd have said it differently. My apologies for making you uncomfortable. Please leave me.”

Cassandra closed her eyes and swallowed briefly, and Feran easily saw the pain she was trying to hold back. Her dark eyes reopened, again with determination and a bit of hope this time. “But as we do not know we...cannot predict anything. It could be great, as you said. It could...I cannot fathom why I would have such intense feelings for you if they were not blessed by the Maker—if they were not safe and reason to follow.”

“Must everything be about the Maker?”

“Must everything be about the Dalish?”

Feran scowled and moved to exit, “This is exactly why you were right. We are far too incompatible—nothing complements. I'm going to the Underforge to check on some armor modifications. Enjoy your afternoon, Seeker.”

“Oh no, you're not. Only I stupidly walk away from things like this,” Cassandra retorted and grabbed his arm, stopping him as she pushed him against the wall.

Feran wanted to fight her off, but something else took over him the moment she pressed against him. His arms quickly came around her as he pressed a very heated kiss to her mouth. Cassandra moaned against him and kissed harder, lips opening slightly. Feran took advantage of it and plunged his tongue into her mouth, taking control of the kiss as he spun them around so she was slammed against the stone.

“Hmph!” Cassandra grunted and clung to him desperately.

Feran gripped her just as tightly, compelled by some force to need this human woman in a way he didn't understand. Their kiss was hot, hot enough to make him shudder in desire and feel himself harden against her thigh. He knew the moment she felt him because the Seeker let out a low, delicious feminine groan and lifted her leg gently and intently against him there. Feran's hand snaked around her head and gripped her hair, jerking her head to the left as he ravished her mouth and rubbed against her teasing thigh.

Needing air, they broke apart and gasped against one another. Feran felt her hands slide down his back and pull him closer, her leg rising up and around his leg to hold him to her. In response he stared into her beautiful dark eyes and brazenly let his other hand slide up her thigh, dip inward just a smidge, and then dart up her waist to her breast, cupping it, and she moaned and pulled him tighter to her, pelvis to pelvis.

They just stared at one another while the intensity of the moment finally started to calm down. Feran blinked as he forced his breathing to deepen and slow; with a slight bit of regret, he stroked her breast through her clothing and slid his hand away. Cassandra's leg unwrapped from its position behind him and her hands let go of his back. Finally his fingers retracted from holding her head.

Feran made himself take a step backward as he audibly inhaled, eyes still on hers. Cassandra mimicked him, but slouched against the wall since she couldn't move much. Neither seemed sure of what to say after that moment of obviously pent up passion.

Cassandra coughed a little as she found her voice again, minutes later. “So...we cannot deny there is _something_ going on, whether we want to feel it or not.”

“Apparently so,” Feran said and licked his lower lip, trying to cool himself off still. Thankfully his erection was mostly going down, though it still felt tight against his pants.

“Now...what? What do we do with this?” Cassandra panted. “It's going to burn us alive, and denying it seems to only make it more...aggressive.”

He had to laugh a little at that, enjoying the smile that graced her somewhat bruised lips. “Mm. What do you suggest? Just getting it out of our systems and hoping the rest of it goes away?”

“Even _you_ know that's asking for a miracle.”

“I know.”

Cassandra shrugged her shoulders heavily. “Perhaps we just...see where it goes. Let it unfold as it will?”

“Are you going to fight me over it again?” he asked expectantly.

“No. I may...still tease as I do in flirting, but I will not shove you away as I tried,” she explained and gave him an apologetic smile. “Forgive me?”

Feran groaned, crossed his arms and titled his face toward her. “Mm. Not sure I do yet.”

“I suppose I have to make that up to you, then.”

“Perhaps.”

“I look forward to delighting you,” Cassandra smoothly countered, stepped forward and kissed him briefly before grabbing the door.

Feran raised a brow as she waved and left, the door swinging shut behind her.  
  
And when she didn't come back like he half-expected, he grinned. 

 


	5. The Hero and the Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny glimpse into a very, very tired man's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idea I had if Cousland managed to appear toward the end events of Inquisition's main story (and in like with To Seek's events with the Arishok/Hawke having been around).
> 
>    
> One-shots involving my Dalish archer inq, Cass, and others.
> 
> (from 2014)  
> Characters/DA:I belong to Bioware.

  
  
  
  
“Boss, wake up. Cousland's here,” Bull grunted and gave Feran's shoulder another shove.

Feran shook awake with a jerk, green eyes up on the Qunari's face as he yawned and slowly processed that he'd passed out in the War Room after waiting on the others. “You... _Cousland_ himself? When? Has he come through the gates yet?” he asked as he took off, Bull on his heels, for the main doors.

“Closing in on horse. Scouts confirmed his identity with Red.”

“Wow,” Feran murmured as they made it to the outside steps of Skyhold, heart thundering.  
  
There, on the bridge, was a lone rider in the late dawn. He was not even stopped by a single guard, just barreled through on the dark bay mare. A cloak graced his broad shoulders, shining dagger hilts catching sun at his hips and on the saddle for easy multiple access.

No one spoke as the Hero of Ferelden lifted his head and stared Feran down intensely. Feran didn't blink, just took in the human's tan face, black hair and dark shining eyes, a long scar down one cheek. Then, to the elf's shock, Cousland sighed and in a blink's time was off his horse, handing the reigns to a terrified servant who'd appeared at his finger's twitch.

“Please. Silence is all I've had for...more time than I care to say. Shout, scream, and bellow,” the almost melodic low tones came over the breeze, and Feran found himself grinning as the hold slowly resumed its normal routine and sound once more came to life. Cousland walked past several bowing people, soldiers and scouts and mages alike, storming with purpose up the stairs.

Feran bowed his head, hoping he didn't look too disheveled. “Welcome, Hero of Ferelden, to Skyhold.”

“Cousland,” the Hero corrected with a surprising smirk. He flicked his dark eyes over Bull with approval. “Nice to see an even _bigger_ Qunari in the fight than the one I knew.”

Bull chuckled and shook Cousland's hand, not showing any sign of reverence—just welcome. Feran followed suit, relaxing more as Cousland looked far less intimidating. If anything the Warden looked very exhausted now. “You missed another one. Few months ago. A...friend.”

Feran smiled at the reference to Ash, that _ridiculously_ huge former Arishok ally. “Oh yes. Taller than Bull.”

“Maker, they breed you well,” Cousland snickered and wiped his brow. “I'll be brief, Inquisitor. I'm tired. I'm weary. I don't need eyes. Find me a spot in your dungeon to sleep where I won't be bothered.”

“Dungeon? Absolutely not,” Feran asserted with a small tick between his brows. “I'll get you a secure room where others do not think I'm imprisoning you.”

Cousland shrugged in acceptance. “These people have yet to realize I've slept in far worse. I've lain in Broodmother blood because I had to.”

“Fuck,” Bull groaned, wrinkling his large nose in disgust. “You've got guts.”

“There were plenty enough around from the dead monstrosity to use for pillows,” Cousland drawled, teasing again with a glint in his eye. Feran realized, in that second, how alike the Hero was to King Alistair. No wonder they were famous friends. Yet...the elf could sense _deep_ capability for violence in this Warden. Capability for darkness. And he couldn't fault him for that after everything with the Blight.

“If you're to sleep _anywhere,_ it will be above me. Or has your brain rotted out in the wild to remember we're here?”

All three men froze at the intonation of the dark, mystical voice of Morrigan as she stepped into view of the Main Hall. Cousland immediately appeared to forget about either person next to him, dark eyes focused solely on the witch. He took a step forward, unblinking. “I had not forgotten. My last letter was that you might be leaving soon. I did not hear yet if that had...occurred.”

“I will forgive you _after_ you make it up to me, not before,” Morrigan huffed, but there, in those weird yellow eyes of hers, was a smile. “Kieran, come. Your Papa is here.”

Bull's brows went up next to Feran, reminding him that only he had been told the truth by Morrigan and Leliana as to the relationships around Cousland. The young boy ran between the tables, staring up excitedly, but with that strange detachment he always had. “Papa?”

Cousland broke into a huge grin and bent to a knee, throwing his cloak back and revealing his suiting dark leather armor as he caught his son in a rough hug, chuckling low while Kieran buried his face in his father's neck. “Shh, son. It's all right. I'm here. You've _grown_.”

“That he has,” Morrigan murmured, a tiny smile on her lips as she watched.

Feran exchanged a look with Bull, both wondering how to politely extract themselves from the private scene, but Cousland rose with the young lad in his arms, kissing the boy's cheeks, and walked up to the witch with a knowing expression. One hand left his son and wrapped around Morrigan's head, digging into her carefully knotted hair and yanking her close for Cousland to kiss her.

Bull lowly coughed and jerked his horns toward the tavern. Feran nodded, watching a moment longer as the Qunari turned away and walked down the stairs softly.

“Mummy, that's gross,” Kieran muttered, stuck between his parents as her fingers dug into Cousland's hood.

“Mummy's gonna get a lot nastier than that shortly,” Cousland murmured, winked down at the witch, and kissed her again. “I missed you, you crow.”

“Remind me why I care about you?”

“Because love is weak, and you're weak to me.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes and patted his chest. “Ah, yes. That. Such a curse.”

Cousland laughed. “We bear it.”

Both finally realized Feran was still standing there, and turned, small smiles on the corners of their mouths almost matching. “I was going to direct you to a room, but I believe you have one now.”

“Yes, he does.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor. I'll let my lady love sort it. Don't pause your business on my account. We'll meet later,” Cousland said, lightly bowed his dark head and sat his son down, walking away with his family toward the gardens as Feran stood there, feeling strangely relieved and recharged with the famous Warden in sight.

 

 


	6. Earning Your Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass's Romance scene.  
> Have some smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-shots involving my Dalish archer inq, Cass, and others.
> 
> (from 2014)  
> Characters/DA:I belong to Bioware.

 

 

 

Ever since that...that _moment_ between them, Cassandra had found herself swallowing down such urges again each time she was near Feran.

It didn't help that despite his forward personality and Dalish background that he was a natural at making decisions with their Inquisition, and soothing certain wounded egos and breaking others he felt too dangerous or unnecessary. He was, simply put, astonishing in every way. And each instance of it drew the net tighter around her heart and sent warmth through her core. 

After a particularly long day involving plans to go to the Emprise du Lion and remove the Red Templars mining the area and torturing the locals there, Cassandra was exhausted. Mentally she was only pushing through each day because it had become habit. Emotionally she was a mess—half drained, half in awkward love that she didn't understand. Like Feran had said about falling for her, a human, she felt similarly toward him, but only because his culture was so...strong within him, as hers was within her. His body she found beautiful, his face stunningly exotic and desirable, not strange and a fleeting curiosity.

For some reason she'd caught odd behaviors from him as of late: meeting with Varric randomly alone, smiles from both of them looking awfully conspiring. A female messenger had even spent some time with the Inquisitor, which rather agitated Cassandra until Sera of all people personally assured her the elven female messenger was...otherwise engaged.  
  
So what was he doing? What was he planning? The announcement of a box from Val Royeaux for him was nothing new—armor, weapon schematics were always arriving. But hushed whispers came with this box, and supposedly it smelled _wonderful_.

But she tried not to think of it on this tiring day. Cassandra swung once more at the training dummy, always looking to keep her skills sharp and often using such exercise as a calming focus, a meditation. That was why she hadn't seen him coming—hadn't caught the suspiciously proud and loving look on his face as he approached her.

“I think you killed him,” Feran teased as her sword made a _thwack_ noise upon cracking the dummy harshly.

Surprised, Cassandra turned to face him. Smug as ever, male as ever. Feran...as ever. She shook her head at the sexy elf and shrugged her shoulders. “One must always stay sharp.”

“ _Ma vhenan_ , your point pricks any who look upon it. You're sharp enough today.” Feran gently pressured on her sword arm to drop her next prepared swing and made her smile in the process. “Come with me.”

Cassandra sheathed her sword as she eyed him. “Where?”

“Some place...private.”

“For?” she pressed, curious as to what he wanted.

Feran huffed and smirked at her. “I would like to spend time with you. _Alone_. Is that... _hint_ enough?”

Cassandra suddenly reddened, brown eyes wide on his pretty face. They'd surrendered themselves several times to extremely passionate kisses and holds, but never had they gone...fully where they wanted. Now, though? After today? “You're...certain?” she asked hesitantly.

“I won't pressure you if you don't want it, Cassandra, but I've been rather stressed and needing comfort only your scowling brings.”

“You think you're cute when you tease. It is annoying.”

“And you prove my point,” Feran smartly countered with a smug grin. “Meet me outside Skyhold. There's a small grove. Say...half an hour?”

Cassandra's brows rose as he leaned closer, outside in view of random agents and soldiers scattered around the courtyard. “I...very well.”

“Good. I shall see you soon, _vhenan_ ,” he whispered and eyed her so intensely she felt her knees twitch from it.  
  
Cassandra watched him walk away, striding with purpose as usual, gorgeously stunning in the evening sun. Her eyes naturally dropped once to his ass, and she sighed, loving how much of a handful she knew it was from...wonderful experience.

The half hour gave her nerves plenty of time to jolt and jitter and debate. She'd quietly discerned more of the location after risking a conversation with Josephine about the state of the fortress and surrounding area, using it as a clever cover to get the knowledge she wanted. Their friendly Ambassador was more than happy to go on for several minutes in detailed descriptions, and finally the Antivan woman mentioned the grove. Cassandra admitted then to never having seen it, and Josephine had smiled and eagerly suggested she go sometime when it was calm.

And so Cassandra found herself walking down the path Josephine had described to her, already enjoying the beautiful nature it gave. Half way down the path she noticed there were lights ahead. Small lights, not torches. A slight frown marred her brows as she considered it and grew closer, her jaw gaping as she gasped.

There were candles everywhere—on rocks, stumps, just everywhere and handsomely illuminating the place. She took a deep breath and smelled flowers, kinds that couldn't be here, kinds that she recognized from Orlais, for example, and she scanned her eyes for them, her expression softening as she saw the roses and daises and many other flowers in vases scattered like the candles. A large white blanket lay upon the ground. 

Cassandra broke out into a smile. The box from Val Royeaux--he'd ordered them for this. For her. Bless the man.

And then he spoke behind her, poetry falling from his lips shocking her, opening her tender, hidden heart underneath the firmness, yet flushing her entirely as he swung around a tree, open book in hand, smirking with an elegant brow cocked.

She grunted, took it from him in a display of nervousness to hide her romantic embarrassed appreciation of him. Cassandra flicked through the pages until she found a favorite and read it to her elven love, thinking of him with each line of lips speaking words into prayers, of spines and flames of desire.

When his big green eyes peered at her, so open, so _loving_ , her legs quivered.

“Shall we read another, _vhenan_?” he asked softly.

Cassandra's heart burst, and she tackled the poor man to the ground, hearing the _umph_ followed by the _mmmph_ and then the broken elvhen words transforming into a sexy groan as she kissed down his neck atop him, hands sliding over his shoulders.

Feran stared up at her, smirked, and rolled them before she could blink. He clicked his tongue at her when she tried to switch them again and bent, biting upon her neck just enough to catch her breath in her chest.

It took him no time at all to strip her of clothes, not with his slender fingers sliding for clasps and buttons, not with his lips so distracting upon her skin, his tongue tasting hers, and she barely even noticed how she leaned forward for him to pull remaining layers over her head.

Feran kissed and sucked his way down her curvy, strong body.

Boots were slid off without care, leggings yanked and nearly torn in their tightness to her skin.  
  
Cassandra's head threw back, mouth open to the night, gasp erupting as his nose rubbed against her belly, trailed down with the tip of his tongue, and strong, nimble hands pressed her hipbones down, fingertips digging into her flesh.

The elf caressed her inside and out with a drag of his cheek up her inner thigh, a flick of his tongue against her womanhood before it entered her once, teasingly, drawing upward to circle the bundle of nerves there.

Cassandra cried out low and soft, in broken pants, hands gripping that head of black hair so tightly she prayed to the Maker she wouldn't accidentally tear it from his scalp while he touched her, stroked fingers inside of her, tasted her again and again with that _blessed_ mouth.

Finally he withdrew, chuckling deeply, and she kicked at him for the satisfaction upon his masculine smirk.

“Good thing I like challenges,” he snickered and quickly divested his own body of clothes.

Cassandra sat up some upon her forearms, jaw open as she took him in: the gorgeous tanned skin all over glistening in the candle and moonlight, the narrow structure of his body and limbs, the _v_ of his hips, the tips of his ears to the bends of his knees, that _fantastic_ behind of his curving enough to see at that angle, and of course the nestled, wonderful cock against his thigh wanting her.

“ _Feran_ ,” she breathed out. “You are _beautiful_.”

The green eyes smiled, and he stretched out over her upon his hands and knees, face tilting down to brush their noses, then their lips teasingly.

“As if you are not,” he murmured against her jaw. “So _fierce_ , you are. So bold, so _strong_.”

“You do not mind that I am not so dainty?”

“ _Vhenan_ , I'd hate if you were. I want _you_ , the woman I've seen cleave a man in two with a sword, the one I trust with her shield to guard my life as she does my arrow to spare her.”

She closed her dark eyes, the smile warm. “Maker, I love you. I cannot believe I once nearly killed you. I am sorry.”

“Far behind us now.”

Cassandra grabbed for him, arms around his neck to pull him against her, and the moan was enticed from her throat at the feel of his maleness against her muscled, but relaxed belly as she lay upon her back. She teased him in turn with fingers in his hair and a leg around his waist, soon raising the other to match it. And when he raised his own head to breathe in awe, she let one hand go, let it map his entire chest down to his navel and beyond until she grasped that desperate hardness in her palm with care.

“ _Fuck_ , _vhenan_ ,” Feran shakily exhaled, lowering his face to hers.

Cassandra licked the shell of that large, pointed ear, and Feran jerked against her, thrust into her stroking fingers. “So it is true. The ear of an elf _is_ quite sensitive.”

Feran grumbled something she didn't understand against her skin, continuing to slide his hips against her, before he finally kissed her harshly. His eyes were half-lidded and so, so close. “ _Ar lath ma, vhenan_. I love _you_.”

“Feran,” Cassandra sighed. “Amidst all the chaos in our world, you still make a place in your heart for me, just as I do you.”

Feran reared back enough to arch his brows and laugh. “You had _better_ , Cassandra. And I plan to make that Holy Maker of yours _jealous_ by earning your prayers tonight.”

“Blasphemy that I do not think I mind.”

Cassandra laughed softly with him, then moaned as she felt him shift over her, using her already lifted legs to wedge further between her hips and nudge at her entrance. His green eyes asked silently his question, and her equally quiet nod was his answer.

He entered her with nothing short of devotion. She would grant him that.

She had not considered the type of lover he would be—his slenderness, everything elf about him made him different than her past lover, let alone his dominate personality warring with hers in a playful way on constant basis now doing so with the tantalizing edging of his hips into a rhythm building of snapping movements and burying himself until they nearly meld into one.

Thus, for once, Cassandra surrendered entirely to him. Willingly, groaning his name into the night as he wished her to do.

Because while they were both dominate folk, Cassandra _wanted_ to feel powerfully feminine and complimentary to him in the moment. She kept the grip of her legs about him upon the bunching blanket beneath them both, mind focused on the sensation of his long, warm hardness inside of her joining them. Her heart was in her eyes as she stared up at his open mouth, his closed large glassy green ones, at the _rapture_ on his _face_.

Feran sighed as he thrust again, changing his pace to a long and deliberate smacking of pelvis to pelvis, making her eyes roll back a little as he pushed to the hilt. When his eyes reopened to look down at her, she smiled up at him and lifted her hips, taking him deeper.

They made love that way, arching together, until Cassandra came entirely apart, the inside of her clenching around him as femininely as the outside with her arms about his neck and shoulder, her legs wrapping around those svelte hips.

It didn't take him much longer to melt the same way, to pulse heatedly inside of her, his voice raspy and sexy and so _Feran_ in her ear as he held under her shoulders for one last joyful thrust and settled upon her tiredly, both of them breathing out steam into the cool night air.

Their eyes met, briefly, and he closed his to press a gentle kiss to her brow, thumb stroking along the scar of her cheek purposefully.

“Have I earned your devotion, _vhenan_?” Feran asked quietly.

“Of course.”

“Have I made your Maker envious in my taking of your heart, your prayers?”

Cassandra smiled, mouth twitched to the side, and traced his light blue tattoos with pride. “I'm sure he would bless us, you silly man, but if you must hear it...then yes. You have a piece of me, Feran, that I cannot share with the rest of the world.”

“Good,” he whispered, kissing her. “And I shall treasure it, guard it like a dragon does its territory, keeping it safe.”

“You _romantic_ man. I am astounded at _all_ of it, you know,” she admitted tiredly, body aching from the strenuousness as he withdrew and revolved to lie beside her.

Feran accepted her across his chest, holding her to the heated, slick skin. Cassandra listened to the heavy beat of his heart for some time as they lay looking up at the trees and the stars, and she wondered just what the historians would make of her with this man, this elf, this love of her life.

 


End file.
